


Don't Wear my Scars

by Alemeino



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Red sucks but at the same time he is just worried for his little skeleton, References to Depression, Relatable shit, Sans (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Well not really, kustard - Freeform, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:46:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alemeino/pseuds/Alemeino
Summary: Sans being an idiot and doing the shit he told Red not to. Red trying his best to comfort his sweetheart.





	Don't Wear my Scars

Was he a hypocrite?

Always people valued his honesty, for how he shoved off the insults of monsters who dared to step over him. How, despite the glares he kept on his famous smile. Always laid back, his form never flinching. Bravery? Or pure ignorance. 

Was he a hypocrite for lying?  Always telling others to hold on, not to give themselves to the voices of dread and hopelessness taunting them with false lies of release. To fight against the current of the sea of darkness, pulling harder and harder to drown them beneath the sorrow and fill their eyes with nothing but self hatred. Rip free of the chains, attempting to pull them over the edge. 

That’s what he told him right? Hold on, you’re so much better than you think? Fighter, brave, kind. Words of encouragement.

Truth is he was a bigger hypocrite then. Now his debt of sin was due.

What an amusing surprise he after finding a couple of blades. Whether Red kept them to cope, or Sans denying having gained them himself, neither would of change how the bathroom light bounced off the sharp knife. Razor sharp rays. Red would laugh, join in while his brother and Edge groaned. The thought didn’t seem to cause anything. Nowadays, the only sentiment was the trepidation of when his eyes would open to the stained wood and cold air from Snowdin, lacking any emotion, only feeling numb.

Was his wish for relief such a greedy wish? An output for all this built up stress from his damn self constructed wall. He grinned at the small blade in his hand, reflecting off the little voice in his head that taunted him to leave a scar, showing the world and Angel above how pathetic and weak he was.

_You could have done something._

Sans squeezed his sockets shut at the sting, air becoming salt against his wound as tears forced out.

_You let your brother be killed, knowing if the future events._

Oh Papyrus, the nobleness he had respected at first, another death that could’ve been avoided had he stepped in the way. Yet he hadn’t, played audience in the human’s act as they struck his brother down before his eyes. Now, the scene didn’t cause a flinch.

_Too feeble to stop them._

Another wave of pain snapped him back to the blurred golden colors of the hall, reminders leaking through of his inability to do anything against the child. But again he played along, multiple chances to act out, pull out a fresh trick yet nothing.

_Nothing but a disappointment._

Disappointing Papyrus on how he was too lazy to achieve anything, but hide out of the nobility he didn’t acquire. Red too, for always he put Sans upon this holy pedestal. Resent, he directed at himself for having been such a burden to his friends and family, weighing his worthlessness on them.

_Pathetic._

Crying already? No wonder he couldn’t do anything.

_Scum._

Maybe he should finish it. Just one hit right? All about intent. That’s what Red always said.

_Worthless._

It would all reset. 

_Disgusting._

who would care?

_Burden_

who would notice?

_Broken._

_Slob._

_You’d be doing them all a fa-_

Pressure around his wrist? Huh. How peculiar. And he couldn’t pull it out, or more so didn’t bother. Murmurs? No shouts right? Fuck was everything swirling, was this how Red felt? Maybe he did him a favor, or force him onto his infernal train. Stuck on this rail that could recede anytime. Should of let him jump, should of let him alone, Red would be doing better, healthier, happier without him adding more problems and problems. 

Heh. 

Shit were things swirling. Eyelights appeared and as suspected he was met with Red shaking him. No wonder things looked blurry, dear Angel was he losing that much marrow? How lovely…

His cheekbone stung(about time), colors finally locking and catching sight of Red. Hell he looked pissed, wonder why.

“Sans what da hell!” his counterpart yelled, grip tight at his arms and eye light piercing into Sans’s soul. So that’s how it felt. Said skeleton shrugged, giving Red a careless smile.

“What were ya thinkin’!” Yep, definitely upset. Maybe Red would finally come to terms what a hopeless case he was. Walk out the door or better, throw him out! What did it matter? Everything was bound to come to zero at some point.

“Answer me damn it!” The shake became harsher, but Sans kept grinning. Gee, it really was starting to hurt, maybe red might do the job for him. Damn was Red too nice, too kind and generous.

“Sans ya fuckin’ dumbass-,”(accurate)”-answer meh!” What purpose would words have? He already disappointed the alternative.

“Fine, ya wanna be all that?” Red pulled up his sleeves and forced Sans to face his radius and ulna. Damn was he strong, his thick bones and high LV sure making it up. Or maybe Sans was just that pathetic. Either way, having the other’s scarred arm slammed in front of him caused the small skeleton to look up. Right. Red had been through this song and dance, had all the steps engraved in bone. If it weren’t for Sans his alternative might as well chopped his arm off. Ha, how ironic. 

“This what ya want!,” Red yelled, eyelight blazing. Wow, he sure was pissed. He hadn’t seen his rage directed at him since they met. Another mistake to add!

“Heh,” Sans chuckles at the sight. “Maybe I might break your record.” Red glared and lifted him up by his shirt.

“Will ya cut da shit already!”

“Why? It was just for a bit. Heh, who knows maybe I can catch up.”

“Sans are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!”

“Thought I was a joke.”

“Ya ain’t! An’ it ain’t no excuse!”

“What ain’t?”

“Ya know damn well what,” he growled. Sans looked down, right. Red was disappointed because he had sunk so low and made himself a fucking hypocrite. Was so pathetic and weak that the only way to get any sense of feeling was through...this.

“This ain’t da way Sans...ain’t gonna do ya any good,” Red sighs, setting Sans down. The small skeleton stayed silent, eyelights traveling back to his boyfriend’s own gallery. Some seemed deeper, across the entire bone while other were merely scratches. His own, a couple, narrow valleys with marrow still fresh. 

“Heh...might as well do the kid’s job for ‘em,” Sans chuckles.

“Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ meh! This what ya want Sans!” Red grabbed Sans’s shoulders, almost close to his fragile neck. Huh, if he had turned would his stronger counterpart have snapped it? Strangled him?

How could he think Red could ever? The other was always careful, tender, never showing intent to harm him.

Heh. He really was fucked up.

“Sans look at meh! Do ya really wanna be broken beyond repair?!” He summoned his soul, another package of cracks splitting and verifying in length. Depression never was good for the soul, and the self harm definitely didn’t help. The only thing keeping Red well and healthy was his high LV. If it were Sans…

“Does it matter? It’ll all just reset right? What does it matter whether I carve my soul?” Sans laughs, looking down at his scarred arm. “I’ll wake up in a panic, Paps I’ll be banging at my door on and on how he has the feeling of a human falling. Then I’ll cry over how you’re gone but to be honest…”

“...how long till that goes numb?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The silence remained. Red got up, pulled down his sleeve as he made his way out. Muttering, but why should Sans care?

He heard the door close and realized his boy...the broader skeleton had taken the knife. Huh. How unfortunate.

The cuts were burning, would explain why he curled in on himself and cried into the tiles. What other reason could there be?

**Author's Note:**

> Heh heh. Based on actual shit that happened to me ha ha ha =)


End file.
